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she’d only once heard him use the F word. Yet, it was
possible, when Trent talked to the jerk, his cursing might be more extreme.
    “Yes, well, he’s the
boss.”
    “And you’re nothing
but a glorified secretary.”
    Carrie did not like
this guy.
    “Be in with your
staff by twelve at the latest.”
    “Don’t hold your
breath…on second thought, hold your breath.”
    When she got off the
phone, she called Trent. It went to voice mail. Perhaps he was interviewing Systems
managers, because they needed a new one fast. She wished their only working systems person was back, because she wanted to ask Jack if he’d ever spoken to
any of the staff. The address issue bothered her.
    An irritated clearing
of a throat caught her attention. She gazed at an arrogant young man with shiny
spikes of hair jutting straight up for an inch, piercing grey wolf eyes, and a tense
square jaw. While not exactly good looking, he probably thought he was. Nothing
else could account for the arrogance radiating off his expensive blue suit.
    “Where are the
executive offices? Someone sent me here, but clearly the guy’s a moron.”
    His look of contempt warned
her she closed in on his moron pile as well.
    “And you are?” she
asked.
    “Grant Tyson, Mr.
Lancaster’s right hand man.”
    “The new EA?” Damn
it. She hadn’t expected to like her replacement, but never did she think it
would be repulsion on first sight.
    He rolled his eyes.
“Do you know where the real executive offices are or not?”
    “You are here. We had
a fired employee go a bit nuts last Wednesday and she and her nephews ripped
the place apart.”
    “This is it?”
    His brow furrowed as
he stared at the boarded windows and broken cadenza. His gaze darted to the
door. Please God, Please let him run!
    He slammed his
briefcase on her desk, almost knocking her laptop to the floor.
    “So be it. Bring me a
latté from downstairs and don’t ever use my desk again.”
    She stood up and
gathered her computer, briefcase, and phone. He’s only temporary. He’ll be
gone in a month.
    She moved into Trent’s
office and resettled, connecting her computer to Trent’s port.
    “Excuse me, but what
do you think you’re doing?” Wonder Boy stood in the doorway and asked—more like
demanded. In fact, he sounded a great deal like her father.
    “I’m trying to work,”
she growled. She’d moved across the country to get away from her parents. The
last thing she wanted was her dad following her about work.
    “I told you to bring
me a latté, and Mr. Lancaster doesn’t wish to have you in his office.”
    She bared her teeth
in what she hope was a smile. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Carrie Hanson, Trent’s former EA.”
    She expected a flash
of regret and perhaps some groveling while he apologized for his rudeness. She
got nothing.
    He just stared at her
as if waiting for her to jump to his command.
    “What?” She returned
to her computer and burrowed into the company system, using the last password
she’d bought before nearly killing Jack with those damn turtles.
    If Bob Ott only did
his job, then the system data would be retrievable by normal users. Instead,
whenever she needed data, she had to bribe a password from Jack and run
temporary reports.
    She downloaded the
employee data for systems. Exactly how much did all those people living at Bob’s
house make?
    “If you don’t get me my
latté in the next five minutes, you’re fired,” Grant warned.
    She saved the data on
her hard drive. “You don’t have the authority to fire me. I don’t work for
you.”
    He stared at the
ceiling as if praying for patience. “As Trent’s secretary, you are my
secretary, but only for four more minutes.”
    “Well, thank God for
that,” she cheerfully replied and began sorting the files for analysis.
    Three minutes to his
deadline, he stormed out and called someone on the desk phone.
    Curious, she pushed
the active line, lifted up Trent’s phone, and listened